Indian Wife is Enjoyed in Village

The Haldi ceremony was usually performed a couple of days or so before the actual wedding, when yellow turmeric paste was applied to the skin of the bride and groom. Each occasion had songs and dances performed by relatives.

"Sahil will have an eye opening about our traditional customs." Even Neetu was amazed at the length my uncle was going for his daughter's wedding. "In our wedding we skipped straight to the Haldi and then Sangeet, before the actual wedding."

"Well, ours wasn't a strict South Indian wedding." I reminded my wife. "I mean, we had your customs also. And both of us wanted a small wedding, unlike Rashmika."

"I don't even think I brought that many dresses, Manav!" Neetu complained. "I will look like an old hag, repeating the same sari!"

"Bhabhi!" Manav grinned. "If all old hags looked like you, this world would be a better place!"

Neetu laughed, as did I. Wisely, Sabbir kept quiet.

"See ..." Neetu poked me from the back. "This is how you compliment your wife. Not like you ... making corny jokes ... 'you look like a wow' and all that."

I ignored my wife's good-natured ribbing then turned back to Manav. "How many more festivities, Manav?"

"All that I said - that's just the first week, and now we are on to the day of the wedding." Manav laughed again. "On the morning of the wedding, we have the Mangal Snaanam, or the purification bath. Some of the village elderly ladies will apply some special oil and turmeric on Rashmika and give her a bath. This is ladies only thing. Of course, then in the afternoon will be the wedding ceremony at the main temple of the village."

This was the highlight - the actual wedding, and of course why we were here. The wedding would be a festive one, a grand one, with over a thousand attendees, many of them poor villagers and relatives. There would be the Kashi yatra (where the groom departs for the temple to get married), the garland exchange, and finally the Kanyadanam. The Kanyadanam is where the bride will be seated on the lap of the father and dedicated to goddess Laxmi and Lord Vishnu. The bride symbolizes the goddess and the new groom the god Vishnu. As the daughter is seated on the father's lap, the father offers her as a sacrifice to the god - her new husband. The priest will recite some verses and pour milk and holy water on Rashmika's hands and onto her father, my Tauji.

Many modern women did this part differently - after all thinking of yourself as a sacrifice to a god had some issues - but I knew my Tauji was a traditional man, and his daughter wasn't the one to raise a fuss.

So far everything is technically pre-wedding. After all this, the groom then ties the Mangal Sutra, or a necklace symbolizing their wedding, and this means the wedding is now final. This is the wedding moment in our culture. The final act of the wedding would be the Saptapadi, or the vows around the holy fire.

All of this would have taken us to the ninth day of our stay in the village. Two days after the wedding would be a dinner hosted by the groom's side. Coincidentally, the date for that function would be December 31^st. The last day of the year, and the last function for Rashmika's wedding.

The next day many people would depart, including us. We had a small three-day holiday planned in Goa, before returning to Canada.

"Bhabhi." Manav cast me a look and then addressed my wife, while keeping an eye on the road. "We had some trouble arranging accommodations of everyone - there are so many guests. And especially because you guys confirmed at the last minute."

"Oh?" Neetu didn't say much, waiting for Manav to continue. "And where are you putting this old hag and her husband?"

"As you know, there is one main big building we have - the zamindar residence." Manav said. "It has thirty rooms for the guests, and I put most of our guests there. All rooms have air conditioning, as well as geezers and private bathrooms. Gopal's parents are there in one of the rooms. I was thinking your son Sahil can stay there with his grandparents. I have already talked to them, and they are fine with it."

"But why?" Neetu was puzzled. "Why can't Sahil stay with us?"

Manav once again shared a look with me before continuing.

"I had to put you two in a villager's hut." Manav's tone was apologetic. "Father rented out some huts from the villagers for the other guests. Actually, Sabbir anna helped us get those huts."

"Each hut has two bedrooms," Sabbir stated. "And one common bathroom and a small kitchenette. No air-conditioning, and you must heat the water in the kitchenette and take to the bathroom for hot water for your bath. And the toilet is Indian style, not Western."

"Oh." Neetu's mind was racing. "And we have to stay like this for how many days?"

"I am so sorry, Bhabhi." Manav again apologized. "It was so late when you confirmed. Usually, all our ... well ... NRI guests were already settled in the zamindar residence. And we were lucky we found some villagers who had huts to rent out. These people would be going somewhere else, so they were glad to rent out their own homes to us. These are very basic living conditions, so Sahil is better off with his grandparents. And you will be staying there for the whole trip."

"I see, I see." Neetu nodded. I knew she would understand; she knows village life is not one of comfort, but I knew she was hoping we could have been accommodated in the zamindar residence. "After four days I am sure I will come and give you some tight slaps, Manav! An Indian style toilet! I have to squat! After so many years!"

"I am so sorry, Bhabhi." Manav again apologized. "On the flip side, you will have more time to yourselves. These huts are a bit away from everyone, so more privacy."

"Speaking of privacy," Neetu sighed. "You mentioned these huts have two rooms. So, we will be sharing our space with someone else?"

"Yes." Manav smiled. "In fact, you know the person you will be sharing your hut with."

As we both waited, Manav gave us the name.

"It will be your old servant, Bhola, and later on, his brother." Manav said. "I thought it would be good for you. They can take care of you and serve you and make things easy for you. Heat the water for the bath, keep the toilet clean, and so on."

The look on my wife's face was priceless. We couldn't talk in front of Manav, but I bet she was thinking the same thing.

What were the chances? We avoid Bhola for all these years, and now we will be sharing the same hut for two weeks!

What she didn't know was that I had known about this arrangement all along. When I had talked to Manav, I only asked him not to tell Neetu until we were in India, and never to let slip the fact that I knew.

Moreover, it had been my idea that the extra room be given to Bhola and his brother, something that Manav agreed to as well. After all, it solved an accommodation issue for him, and gave us a servant for our stay.

What I didn't realize at that moment was that this would leave to Neetu spending most of her time in his bedroom, used like a whore and thrown around the bed like a rag doll, before being sent back to my bed, her innards full of another man's cum.

* * *

It was just after dinner when we finally made our way back to our hut. We had dropped off Sahil at the zamindar residence and then dropped off our luggage in our hut. Bhola was there, waiting for us.

He hadn't changed much. He was just entering his thirties, though his face was more tanned and had a weather-beaten look. He had become even more muscular, if that was possible.

"Sahib! Memsaab! How nice to see you all again!" He kept on saying, as he touched my feet with respect. "It will be my pleasure to be of service to you, again! After all these years!"

Sure! I remembered how he had serviced my wife all those years ago!

"When Manav sahib asked me to stay here, I told him I will be happy to help look after you both!" Bhola was beaming. "I never thought I would see you again, sahib. And you, memsaab."

"We are also happy to meet you again, Bhola." I replied drily.

After some pleasantries, I asked Bhola what he had been up to.

"I was in Dubai for a bit, sahib!" Bhola answered.

His eyes, even while talking to me, could not help glance at Neetu every other second. He was openly ogling my wife even as he talked to us. "And I also worked with one of your former neighbours ... Mrs. Gill ... if you remember."

"I guess so." I was unpacking and getting ready for a bath. "She was the Punjabi lady in ... what ... 37B?"

"Yes, sahib." Bhola nodded. He then turned to Neetu.

"Memsaab, you have become even more beautiful than what I remember." He openly praised her lavishly in my presence. "Sahib is indeed a lucky man."

"Oh Bhola." Neetu tried to shrug it off. "You need to get your eyes checked! I am an old hag now."

"You have a very beautiful and welcoming smile, memsaab." Bhola continued. "I always thought it was one of your best characteristics. Shows the goodness of your heart."

"You are too much, Bhola." Neetu grinned. "I am now fat. And big."

"Oh no!" Bhola insisted. "You are still the beautiful young memsaab I remember!"

Even as he made my wife blush, Bhola turned back to me.

"Sahib, I have just boiled some hot water for the bucket. If you or memsaab want to take a quick bath." He then added, "If you find the water too cold, let me know. I am here to help you, sahib."

He was being nice, but for some reason I detected a smirk in his voice. Almost as if he was telling me, "Hey cuckold. Try not to be too humiliated when your wife starts screaming out my name in ecstasy."

I shook my head. I was imagining things, of course.

"I will go first." I announced. "Bhola, you can boil some more water for your memsaab."

I went in the bathroom and shut the door. It was a steel door with a latch. However, there was no shower in the bathroom, just a bucket of cold water and a bucket of hot water. You had a mug; you mixed the two and took a bath.

"Memsaab, it's been so long." I heard Bhola tell my wife outside, even as I poured water over myself. "Seven years?"

"Yes, Bhola." I heard Neetu reply cautiously.

"I thought about you all those years, memsaab." Bhola continued. "Our time together was special, wasn't it, memsaab?"

"Yes, it was, Bhola." My wife agreed. "But that was seven years ago. I am a mother now."

"I heard." Bhola replied. "Somehow ... I always thought ... I would be the one ... making you a mother, memsaab."

Poor Bhola! If only he knew!

"I ... your sahib ... we ..." I heard Neetu stammer, even though we had this speech prepared. "We went to the USA ... Bhola. He got ... some treatment. Thankfully, now we have Sahil."

"Yes, memsaab." Bhola said. "But ... perhaps ... do you think ... it is time ... your son ... would need some siblings?"

It was hot. It was outrageous. It was bold. He was hitting on my wife, propositioning her, and I was in the bathroom with just a wall and a door between us, taking a bath.

"I ... Bhola." Neetu replied nervously. "What we had, Bhola, it was a good memory. I always cherish those days."

"Memsaab. You have now become even more beautiful. I simply cannot stop looking at you! And oh ... your boobs!"

"Bhola." Neetu gave another nervous laugh. "We are staying here for two weeks. You can't be saying those things to me. Please, my husband is here."

"We will talk when he is not here, memsaab." Bhola replied boldly. "Tonight, come to my room. Just like old times. I will do more than just talk about your boobs. You know what I can do to you, memsaab."

"Bhola, please." My wife pleaded. "Not now. My husband is right here."

"Your husband is a little dicked cuck, memsaab." Bhola stated. "The only cock that should go inside you ... is mine ... and my friends ... memsaab. And you know it. Yet, seven years ago, memsaab ... you disappeared so suddenly. I couldn't even give you a proper good-bye fuck!"

"Bhola ... please."

"This time, I am fully prepared, memsaab." Bhola declared. "Your last night with us is Dec 31, the last night of the year. Me, and my friends, will be prepared. We will make it a night to remember for you, memsaab."

He was coming along very strong. I thought it was time I put a stop to their banter.

"Neetu," I called out loudly, "I am done. Get ready."

When Neetu was done her bath, and we both put on some fresh attire, we then went back to the zamindar residence. It was more fun time ... to meet more relatives and engage in more revelry. I met Sabbir there, and a few other important men from the village council, as well as some of their underlings. My Tauji was well connected.

Neetu and I finished our dinner there, met even more relatives, and now, barely able to stand on our feet, we were back in our hut. I was asleep within two minutes of hitting the bed.

What I didn't know at that time was that my currently running seven-year-old streak of being Neetu's only man in bed was about to come to an end. There was a reason Bhola came on too strong. He knew what Neetu liked in him. Wanted from him.

I should have known. As Bhola greeted us back, the look in my wife's eyes should have alerted me to the fact that she was about to cuckold me.

Again.

* * *

It must have been sometime around two or three in the morning when my eyes opened. You know how jet leg is, you become wide awake at weird hours of the night.

As I turned around, I realized Neetu wasn't beside me!

Slowly my senses cleared, and I became fully awake, and I also became aware of conversation happening outside the room, from the common area. The hut had two bedrooms beside each other, and a small common lavatory. There was a common area with one dining table and a kitchenette, along with a few chairs. Very simple village living.

Neetu was talking with someone there.

It was Bhola. It must be Bhola. I thought I recognized his voice. I knew if I got up and walked over to the door, I could hear properly. Or I could just go out and make my way there. But somehow, for some reason, I remained on the bed, lying there.

After about ten minutes, I heard the creak of the chair. Both Neetu and Bhola must have stood up. I heard some more talk, and then silence.

And then I heard some rustling sound. What was happening?

SMOOCH!

She was actually kissing him! They were kissing! My wife, the mother of our son, and our former servant. They were kissing!

I could not believe it!

I heard more voices, and then a door being shut.

Neetu had actually gone in with Bhola to his room!

"Oh, Bhola!" I heard Neetu murmur. "How I missed you!"

SMOOCH!

I sighed. I knew it could happen, I knew it would happen, but to actually have it happen on our very first night back in the village itself! How easy it had been for Neetu to simply give in!

I was now in our bedroom, on the bed, alone. The small fan whirred noisily, blowing hot air through the room. I was lying on the bed, my hand in my boxers, my cock hard and erect, and reaching upward, my heart racing fast as I strained my ears to listen to the noises emanating from the next room.

Creak! Squeak!

There was a noise as my wife and Bhola got into bed. No doubt, he was busy stripping Neetu of her clothes, while taking his own off, as fast as he could.

"Oh, your boobs, memsaab." I heard him mutter. "I had forgotten how perfect they were. Now they are even bigger!"

He was already handling her boobs! He had picked off right where they had left seven years ago, exactly as I knew he would.

Creak! Squeak!

"They have become bigger after my pregnancy." Neetu replied, somewhat shyly. "Oh, Bhola! You know ... you know ... just what to do! Even my husband loves my breasts ... but you ... the way you touch ..."

SMOOCH!

SMOOCH!

"I missed you so badly, Bhola."

"Boobs like this aren't meant for your husband, memsaab. He is a little dicked cuck."

"Oh, Bhola."

The sounds of rapid kissing came through the walls. For some time, there was no other sound, no words, as the long-parted lovers kissed each other passionately upon reuniting again after seven years.

SMOOCH!

SMOOCH!

"You know how to kiss me so nicely, Bhola." My wife was murmuring. She seemed to be having a small orgasm already. Soon I knew she was going to get her brains fucked out.

The noises were loud now, and very audible. I just hoped they didn't go beyond the hut. A village night could be a very quiet one, and loud noises tended to carry far. It will be a big scandal if anyone found out what was happening in that room at this instant.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

There it was! After so many years ... here was this noise once again! The noise of the bed squeaking as another man ... penetrated ... my own wife.

My dear wife! My own sweet Neetu! Jealousy and arousal, the deadly combination, was once more a familiar feeling as I listened to the sounds of my wife's latest extramarital affair.

"Oh, Bhola!" Neetu moaned. "Oh, my dear Bhola. How I have missed you all these years! Oh, how deep you go inside me!"

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

The unabashed sounds of my wife's excited and sometimes frantic voice coming from the adjacent room through the thin walls indicated that she had now taken her lover's large cock inside her.

"Oh Bhola!" Neetu moaned. "You are so deep inside me."

A familiar sense of warm humiliation came over me as I heard my wife moan, even as the squeaking of the bed springs became more and more frequent.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

"After seven years ... aren't you glad you are once again getting fucked by a real man?" Bhola taunted my wife, even as he had his pecker buried deep inside her. "How does it feel, memsaab? Whose cock do you like better, memsaab? Mine, or your husband's?"

"Oh, Bhola, there is no competition!" Neetu grunted. "You make me feel so good. I am so glad I ... I ... cuckolded my husband years ago ... with you!"

"I have some plans for you memsaab this time." Bhola ominously told my wife as he continued to fuck her. "We will make up for lost time, my dear slut! As soon as Manav sahib told me I was sharing the hut with you, I made those plans, my dear memsaab!"

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

The rhythmic creaking of the bed frame added to my humiliation, indicating to me that my wife Neetu was again being haplessly penetrated by Bhola, and from her moans and murmurs I could make out that she was now having an orgasm.

"Oh Bhola! Oh, BHOLA!"

Neetu's voice got louder and more excited, and then stopped for a few minutes. I heard some rustling on the bed.

"Memsaab, get ready."

SLAP!

The noise was sharp, but not too loud. Bhola had struck my wife across her face, but not too hard. He slapped her again, as he liked to do.

SLAP!

It was déjà vu. He was slapping my wife, just like old times. A lowly servant man was slapping my wife, and she was just letting him, and I was helpless to do anything. He was probably fucking my wife bareback, and I couldn't do anything either. He now slapped my wife harder.